


Slow Dancing in the Pines

by AriadneKurosaki



Series: Deathberry Family [15]
Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Implied KenBya, Implied Soulbond, Shameless Smut, This plot is as thin as chiffon, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:00:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29449674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriadneKurosaki/pseuds/AriadneKurosaki
Summary: The grove of weeping pines in their garden had been turned into a private sanctuary for the night, and Rukia wondered if Ichigo remembered thatshewas supposed to be the gift-giver on Valentine's Day.But then, after nearly twenty-five years together, they were both good at taking care of each other.
Relationships: Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo
Series: Deathberry Family [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891189
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30
Collections: The Seireitei Server Valentine's Writing and Art Challenge 2021





	Slow Dancing in the Pines

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: _real_ chocolate and slow dancing
> 
> Yes, I wrote more unrepentant sap and smut for Deathberry Family. I just want them to be blissfully happy, okay?

_Meet me under the pines when you’re ready,_ read the note. There was no signature or stamp, but Rukia didn’t need one to know who had left it on her bed. She could feel the touch of his reiatsu on it, and even without that, she recognized the way he formed his kanji after so many years. There’d been no sign of Sumiye or Masaaki in their home; when Rukia extended her senses, she could feel them both, a trickle of their power coming from the direction of her brother’s manor. Ichigo must have sent them over earlier, she surmised.

She took a deep breath and smelled something sweet in their bathing room; an investigation revealed that her husband had drawn a bath for her, scented with flowers, and that it was still hot. “He must have done something wrong,” she muttered, but stripped out of her shihakusho, sweaty from a long day of training, and sank into the bath with a low sigh of satisfaction. She thought about keeping him waiting and letting him stew, but when she sought out his reiatsu it was calm and a little eager, not at all worried or nervous.

And then she thought – _Oh._ It was Valentine’s Day. Rukia’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment even though there was no one to see her. Soul Society observed the holiday, with the Shinigami Women’s Association delivering chocolates to many of the divisions, but Rukia had bowed out of the deliveries this year. And between a disastrous patrol in the outer districts that she’d cleaned up after and a pile of paperwork as tall as she was to officially combine the Seventh and Thirteenth Divisions on a so-called _temporary basis_ – a compromise between Central Forty-Six, whose members hated change and Kyōraku, who wanted Ichigo and Rukia to rebuild the Seventh – it had completely slipped her mind. At least she had a gift for him, squirreled away where he wouldn’t think to look.

Rukia hurried to wash up, scrubbing the day from her skin and hair. She used kido to dry her hair, silently thanking Rangiku for teaching her the trick years ago that meant never having to go to bed with a wet head. One of her prettiest yukatas was draped over a chair when she stepped back into her bedroom, and Rukia hummed under her breath. She wondered what Ichigo had planned as she dressed, wrapping her breasts and donning a pair of underwear before slipping into the mulberry-hued yukata. She fastened the obi around her waist and hurried to Sumiye’s room to dig out a carefully wrapped gift before she stepped, barefoot, onto the engawa that surrounded the courtyard of their home.

The centerpiece of their courtyard was the grove of weeping pine trees, a once sparse collection of trees that after years of growth and, it must be said, the occasional intervention from Byakuya’s gardeners, were twice as tall as Ichigo. They served as a sort of natural gazebo, a place of draping greenery that hid its secrets – sometimes, _their_ secrets – from the world. The moon overhead was nearly full, and as Rukia stepped from the engawa down into the courtyard, she could see soft light emanating from within the pines. She followed a spiraling path of flat stones and, still barefoot, stepped into the grove.

“Tadaima,” Ichigo said as he turned to face her, a slight smile curving at his lips. He’d changed from his uniform as well and wore a deep green yukata that happened to be one of her favorites. His sunset-bright hair, which was long enough that it just brushed his shoulders, hung free.

Her husband had covered the ground beneath them with colorful cushions and a low table, as well as a heavy cloth to protect their legs. There were covered dishes on the black lacquered surface, and whatever was under them smelled delicious. He’d hung paper lanterns from the branches overhead, and they cast heat and soft, yellow light into the grove. There was quiet music playing, too, and Rukia spotted speakers peeking out from behind a low bush. “Okaeri,” she said, and suddenly the gift in her hands felt inadequate.

But Ichigo leaned down to kiss away the frown that was forming on her lips. “Have dinner with me,” he told her, and grinned. “There’s shiratama for dessert.”

“Isn’t Valentine’s Day when I give a gift to you?” Rukia asked as he led her to the table. She sat down across from him, though, making herself comfortable on a plump blue cushion while Ichigo settled onto a bright yellow one. She set the gift down in front of him and huffed when he reached over and tugged lightly on the lock of hair that fell between her eyes.

“It’s just dinner. I can’t have dinner outside with my wife, midget?” Ichigo asked, and grunted when her hand smacked against his chest in response.

“I suppose,” she allowed, and nudged her gift closer to him.

Ichigo hummed under his breath and carefully unwrapped the box. It was a fairly large one, and he raised an eyebrow as he peeled away the red paper and opened it. Nestled inside were pretty chocolates shaped like strawberries and chappy bunnies. The strawberry chocolates were a deep red hue, with tiny white seeds pressed into the surface and leaves painted with green luster dust. She’d made the bunnies with dark chocolate and added little pink slivers in their ears. They had pink tongues, too. “Are these _real_ chocolates?” he teased. “Not giri choco?”

“They’re _honmei choco_ of course,” Rukia sniffed, cheeks heated. “I made them the other night.”

Ichigo blinked and set the box down carefully. “Is that where you were when I woke up alone in the middle of the night?” he asked as he leaned across the table to brush their lips together. “You didn’t have to stay up half the night just for me, Rukia. I was just teasing about giri choco.”

“Hmph. I wanted to. Don’t make a big deal of it,” she ordered.

Ichigo chuckled low in his throat. “Thank you, Rukia,” he murmured, and kissed her again, deeper this time so that they were both a little breathless when they drew back. He settled back on his cushion and closed the box of chocolates before he pulled the covers from all but one of the various plates on the table and set them aside.

It was obviously a home-cooked meal, Rukia saw immediately, and still hot thanks to the covers. There was miso soup, piping hot and steaming in the cool air around them, and shrimp tempura, panko breading still crispy. There was a platter of thinly sliced seared tuna as well, and another of vegetables in a light sauce, plus a bowl of rice. “When did you cook all of this?” she asked. “You only left the division a few minutes before I did.”

“I prepped everything but the rice last night, and all I had to do tonight was cook,” he explained as he poured ice water into their glasses from a pitcher. Ichigo served her generous helpings of everything and passed her a bowl of soup as well.

“So that’s why _I_ woke up alone last night,” she mused, and nudged him under the table.

“Che. Don’t make a big deal of it,” Ichigo muttered, echoing her words.

Rukia made a show of huffing at him, but – she loved that he took care of her like this, even if she sometimes felt like she wasn’t as good at taking care of _him_.

He read that expression too, or maybe he felt it, because Rukia found herself tugged around the table until she was in his lap. “You do take care of me,” Ichigo said against the skin of her neck, one arm wrapped around her to hold her close against him.

They’d only spoken once about what had happened on their wedding night nearly twenty years ago, when they’d nearly destroyed her room in the manor and red ribbons had wrapped around them. They had assumed that when they didn’t need words it was because they knew each other so well. But there’d always been…something else beneath the surface, quiet and unobtrusive but _there_.

“Hmn. All I did was make chocolate,” Rukia objected.

“Handmade chocolate that probably took hours,” Ichigo reminded her, “and you cooked dinner every night for the last week, and you kept me from knocking Toshiro on his ass when he told me that Karin was _moving_ here. _And_ you backed my half-assed scheme to set up a children’s home in the Rukongai just because it was me who wanted to do it, _and_ you gave us two beautiful children.”

Her skin flushed pink from her cheeks down to her neck and she muttered, “You’re such a sap, Ichigo.”

“Yeah, so you tell me,” he said, and pressed a kiss against her temple. “But you’ve never minded.”

“I don’t,” she admitted. Rukia leaned up and their lips touched, slow and gentle under the lanternlight. His hand splayed warm and heavy against her back, familiar and comforting as it kept her close against his chest.

“Good. Now come on, let’s eat dinner before it gets cold,” Ichigo said. Rather than let her sit back down on the other side of the table he grabbed for the pillow she’d been sitting on and dropped it next to him instead, and they ate their dinner tucked up against one another.

Ichigo hadn’t been lying about dessert; the last covered dish held two little bowls of red and white shiratama topped with little red berries. “I have umeshu,” he offered, gesturing at a small decanter off to one side that he’d been keeping chilled in a clay pot.

“Just a little,” Rukia agreed. It had already been a long day and between her bath and dinner she was nicely relaxed. She didn’t want to tip over into drowsiness.

So Ichigo produced two little cups and filled each one with the golden plum wine. It was sweet and almost syrupy; Rukia added a few drops of water to hers after the first sip. They drank their wine and ate the shiratama as soft music played in the background.

“Did you make the shiratama too?” Rukia asked.

“Yeah. I know they’re not as good as Yuzu’s.”

She laughed and took another sip of wine. “They’re close, actually.”

The wine _didn’t_ make her drowsy; in fact, it made Rukia a little mischievous, and when Ichigo set his cup down again she stood and dragged him up with her. “Make the music louder,” she demanded, as Ichigo nearly tripped on their cushions and had to grab her shoulders to balance himself. “I want to dance with you.”

He smirked, eyes gleaming amber as they met hers. “You know I’m not a good dancer,” he complained mildly, but let go of her long enough to find the music player and turn the volume up. She had no idea where Ichigo had gotten it, or the music he’d chosen, but the upbeat tune that had been playing ended and something slower and sweeter started, a piano melody that had Ichigo softening and holding out his hand to her, palm up.

She placed her hand in his and he drew her closer, his other arm sliding around her back as Rukia rested her hand on his shoulder. They grinned at one another, and Ichigo led her in a slow, simple dance in their pine grove, stepping along to the rise and fall of the instrumental piece. “See? This isn’t so hard,” Rukia prodded.

Ichigo gamely dipped her and brought her back up, pulling her closer to him so that their chests were almost touching. “ _Slow_ dancing is fine,” he agreed, and pressed his lips to hers again.

They danced barefoot under the pines as the moon moved across the sky, only a sliver visible through the pine needles overhead. “Where did you get the music player from?” Rukia asked as the song rose to a crescendo and Ichigo spun her away and pulled her back to him. She almost stumbled when her foot hit a sunken patch in the grass, but he caught her and tugged her closer.

“Turns out the Twelfth has been hiding all sorts of things from the rest of us,” Ichigo said, voice rumbling low in his chest as the song changed. The strains of a violin echoed through the speakers, followed by a different piano tune. “I bribed Kenpachi to chase Kurotsuchi around for a while, and Akon gave me a tour. He’s going to send some stuff over to our division next week – should make doing paperwork easier. Apparently the Twelfth has had computers that run on reishi for _fifty years_ now.”

Rukia laughed under her breath and looked up at him. His sunset-bright hair took on a golden glow in the light from overhead, and his lips curved as he watched her laugh. “I hope you didn’t promise Kenpachi that rematch,” she prodded. “ _And_ that Akon or someone else is going to show me how to use one of those computer things.”

He snorted and dipped her again. “Can you feel where he is?” Ichigo asked rather than answering directly.

One delicate eyebrow arched up, but Rukia closed her eyes and extended her senses once more. It was more difficult with Ichigo so close to her, his reiryoku twined with hers and his power softly blanketing her as it always did whenever they touched. “He’s…” Her eyes flew open. “He’s at the manor with Sumiye and Masaaki? Ichigo…”

His arm tightened around her. “They’re fine,” Ichigo said, before the spark of panic in her could do more than flicker. “He’s having dinner with Byakuya and the kids. Masaaki’s got _him_ wrapped around his little fingers, too.”

“Dinner…with Nii-sama,” Rukia said blankly.

“I didn’t ask questions,” Ichigo admitted. “But yeah, apparently. You saw what they were like at the last captains’ meeting.”

Just the thought of Byakuya and Kenpachi doing anything so civilized together as _eating dinner_ was…odd. She couldn’t really wrap her head around it. “At the captains’ meeting…?” She tried to remember what her brother had been doing, but the meeting had been the first Ichigo was attending as her future co-captain, and Rukia had been absorbed in a tense debate about what their budgets would look like. “You were supposed to be paying attention to the budget discussion, not…whatever Kenpachi and my brother were doing!” she objected.

The chest she was resting against rumbled with laughter. “I was. That’s part of _why_ I got all that equipment from Akon. If Central Forty-Six and Kyōraku won’t give us more than a third of the budget from the Seventh’s allotment, we need to be more efficient.”

“Hmph.” He _had_ been listening, then. Rukia let him spin her away from him again, and she came back into his arms on the next few beats of the music. “What was the bribe, then?”

“Getting Byakuya to issue the invitation in the first place,” Ichigo admitted. “Your brother…” He paused and pressed Rukia’s hand against his chest, keeping her lightly pinned. “Don’t get mad when I say this. He loves Hisana, he always will, but he’s lonely. He’s set on the idea that you’ll be angry if he sees someone, since she was your sister.”

She blinked up at him. “He _told_ you that? When?”

Ichigo hummed under his breath. “Not in those exact words. And it was when we both got roped into that Men’s Association retreat a few months back. Renji gave him way too much sake.”

Rukia laid her head against his chest. “Why wouldn’t he say that to me, though?” she asked as they swayed together. She left aside the fact that her friend had apparently gotten her brother _drunk_.

“Because he doesn’t want you to feel guilty, I think,” Ichigo said softly.

“I thought he didn’t want a partner again,” Rukia murmured. “He deserves love and companionship, if he wants it. I’ll have to tell him when we pick up Sumiye and Masaaki tomorrow.”

“Alright.” Ichigo’s lips brushed against her temple and he pulled her into another dance.

Eventually the lanterns started to flicker and gutter as the oil in them ran dry, and when there was only one lantern still lit, Rukia drew back reluctantly. “We should probably go inside,” she murmured, and shivered a little. The temperature had dropped as they danced, and even she was starting to feel chilled.

“Hn. Yeah,” Ichigo agreed, but she could feel a hint of reluctance in him, too. They broke apart so that he could shut off the music player and pack it away, while Rukia stacked up empty dishes and glasses. It took two trips to bring everything back inside; on the second trip out of their grove Ichigo blew out the last lantern before carrying the table and cushions inside.

Unlike Byakuya they didn’t have servants in their home at all hours of the day and night; Rukia washed the dishes while Ichigo put away everything else, including the leftover plum wine, and placed her gift of chocolate on a high shelf. He stacked and put away the pots and pans that he’d already washed.

Rukia laughed as Ichigo swept her into his arms when she tried to dry the dishes. “They’ll be spotted in the morning!” she protested.

“They’ll be _fine,_ ” he assured her, amusement in his voice as he looped an arm under her knees and tucked her against his chest. Rukia huffed and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I’m not washing them again if they’re not.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He walked along the engawa and into their bedroom, then set her down so that he could Ichigo draw the heavy, solid wood sliding doors shut behind them. Then he tugged Rukia close again. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said quietly as she rested her head against his chest.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Ichigo,” Rukia whispered. Their lips met in another long, thorough kiss. Her fingers played lightly with the obi wrapped around his waist. “Guess we should go to bed, hm?” she asked when they parted, already unraveling the knot.

Ichigo hummed, and his hand dipped lower, finding the curve of her hip. “Yeah, I think so,” he agreed. He tugged lightly at the sash wrapped around her waist with his other hand, and the slip knot she’d tied came undone. Her yukata fell open and he pushed it gently from her shoulders. “I’m kind of in the mood for a snack, though.”

“A snack?” She let the fabric fall from her arms to the floor and his obi, unknotted, dropped from her hand as well. “You’re still hungry?” Rukia teased.

“Mhm.” He let his own yukata fall away; unlike her, he was completely nude beneath it and his length was already hardening. “Just a little one,” Ichigo clarified, and smirked at her as he backed her up towards their bed. Rukia went willingly, and when the backs of her knees hit the side of the bed she sank down. “And there’s a perfect snack right here.”

“Cheesy,” she complained, but her cheeks heated and her legs spread as he pressed closer, knees falling open to give him more room as he stood before her.

“Could tell you I’m in the mood for peaches,” Ichigo said, unrepentant and grinning in the moonlight coming in through the windows. He reached behind her and unfastened the wrap around her breasts without looking, letting it fall to the floor beside them.

Rukia reached up for him and Ichigo bent lower, mouth finding hers just as she wanted. His lips were soft against hers but he licked into her mouth, hot and overwhelming as he boxed her in against the bed. “Idiot,” she muttered affectionately, “You were so romantic, slow-dancing with me, and now you’re making jokes about my ass.”

Her husband’s eyes gleamed honeyed amber as he pulled back a little to look at her. “I love your ass,” Ichigo objected, and reached down, hands curving to cup both cheeks, warm and heavy between her skin and the bedclothes.

Rukia’s cheeks flushed as Ichigo’s hands squeezed her ass lightly. She’d _always_ been a little self-conscious of how much…curvier her hips and ass were than the rest of her. Before she could say anything else, her husband peeled her underwear from her and used his leverage to lift her further onto the bed, spreading her out and then joining her. “Ichigo…”

“Mm?” Ichigo busied himself pressing kisses against her neck and then lower, lips leaving a trail of warmth along her breasts. His hot mouth closed over her nipple and Rukia arched up, mouth dropping open on a little cry. He sucked it into pebble hardness and released it with a little pop. “You’re beautiful,” he breathed against the soft, modest curve of her breast. Rukia moaned for him, heat washing over her, as he gave the same treatment to her other breast and then slid lower, leaving hot kisses on her skin.

At the first touch of his tongue, Rukia cried out, bucking up towards his mouth as he lapped at the very core of her. She was getting wet for him already, and Ichigo cupped her ass again to keep her close as he feasted on her, shoulders holding up her thighs to keep her spread for him. “I-Ichigo,” she moaned, mouth falling open as he dragged his tongue over heated skin. Rukia arched back on the bed and her breath hitched over and over so that she could barely voice her pleasure. “Don’t stop,” she begged, and a low chuckle vibrated against her overheated skin.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he murmured, and his next lick was a low, lewd slurp. Then his lips closed around her clit and Rukia choked on nothing, panting into the cool air around them as Ichigo sucked, _hard_. Then his tongue found that spot just to the side of her clit and heat washed over her. She grabbed for him, one hand fisting in his hair while the other clutched at the bedsheets, body writhing beneath him so that he had to pin her to keep her from dislodging his hot, wet mouth.

The tension in her grew, spiraling tighter and tighter low in her belly, and Rukia threw her head back as it snapped. With just his lips and tongue he pushed her into a slow wave of an orgasm that pulled her under. Wetness gushed from her folds and Ichigo moaned, the sound vibrating into her, as he drank her in. He watched with gleaming eyes as he did it, tongue keeping up the pressure on her until she squirmed and cried out because the pleasure was _too_ much. He drew the back of his hand over his mouth as he rose up her body.

She was still catching her breath as he settled next to her, a smile quirking over his lips and his cock hard and heavy at her thigh. “Ichigo,” Rukia breathed, and tasted herself on him as they kissed.

“Love watching you like that,” he said softly. “You get so _wet_ for me.” Rukia’s cheeks flushed hotly, but Ichigo’s hand slid low and two fingers pressed inside, thrusting and curling so that she arched up again, mouth dropping open in a low moan. “But I need to be inside you,” he murmured hotly against her ear. “Can you feel how much?”

She thought he meant how hard he was, but then, suddenly – she _could_. It was an overlap of her own need, an echo of love and desire wrapped into one. The feeling of _mine. She is mine and I am hers_ that had wrapped around them when they’d drunk from shared cups and made love that first night of their marriage. “Oh,” Rukia whispered, and she reached for him. Her hand wrapped, strong and sure around his cock and Ichigo groaned for her, free arm wrapping around her to drag her closer.

“Nngh – _Rukia_ ,” he gasped, her name breaking in his mouth. She stroked, feeling the softness of his skin, almost velvety over the hard, thick length of him. Pleasure slid through her, and Rukia wasn’t sure if it was hers, the way his fingers stretched her open in a pale imitation of his cock, or _his_ , as his hips rocked into her hand. He was flushed for her, pupils blown wide with only a thin ring of golden amber around them.

“I want you inside me.” She moaned the words into his shoulder as her muscles drew his fingers deeper in and clenched around them.

Something sparked in his eyes and Ichigo pulled his fingers from her with a slick, lewd sound. They were dripping wet, and he let her watch as he licked them clean. Then he rolled onto his back and tugged her along with him. “Why don’t we try something different?” Ichigo asked, and at the confusion in her eyes he smirked. “Come sit in my lap, facing away from me.”

Rukia’s eyes met his and she stole a kiss before she did as he asked, ass brushing against the thick length of him. Ichigo groaned, but his hands found her hips and he lifted her as Rukia reached for his cock to steady him. When she sunk down onto him they both cried out, and Ichigo’s hands tightened on her hips so much that she knew she’d bear marks in the morning, blue and purple prints that she would refuse to heal before their time, wanting to be reminded of his claiming each time she saw them.

But then Ichigo drew her down so that her back rested against his chest, and he tucked his chin over her shoulder. He felt even _bigger_ like this, she felt tighter, and Rukia felt a little lightheaded with it. “How’s this? Do you feel full of me?” he husked.

“Y-y-es,” she managed, and rocked against him. Ichigo choked out a moan and one hand slid low, cupping her mound and then drifting up just enough that he could stroke her clit with his fingers. “O- _oh_ ,” Rukia moaned, high and sweet.

“Yeah? You’re _so_ wet,” Ichigo murmured, and then he _moved_ beneath her, pressing in deeper and then pulling out. “You feel so good wrapped around my cock.”

Her hands came up behind her and one fisted in hair, the other once more finding their much-abused bedsheets. “This angle – ah! – it’s so _good_.” She moved with him, and together they found a rhythm, his hand on her hip to guide her and her legs helping her get enough leverage to thrust. Her breasts bounced with every stroke, and Ichigo’s fingers circled her clit.

Ichigo’s mouth found her ear, nibbling and teasing at it before he drifted lower, down her neck and shoulder once more. He panted in her ear as he thrust up into her, and she was so very wet that the slide and drag of them together was slick and loud in the quiet of their bedroom. “Do you like this?” he asked, and his fingers pressed, dragging hitching, helpless gasps as Rukia threw her head back. She panted, desperate for air as the head of his cock pressed against just the right spot inside her with every thrust. It was perfect, the thickness of him filling her up near to bursting and the touch of his fingers building the tension again low in her belly.

Wetness spilled between them, bringing color to Rukia’s cheeks. “I l – mmm – I love it,” she moaned, and rocked down as he moved faster, the hand at her hip still guiding her.

“You’re gushing for me,” Ichigo moaned, and bit into her shoulder lightly. “I love it, you’re so – ah – so hot around me, so fucking good…” He dragged his hand from her hip to pinch the dark pink pebble of her nipple, rolling it between his rough fingers while his other hand worked over her clit.

“Feels so good,” she moaned back. “Don’t stop – I’m already so _close_.”

“Yeah? Me too,” he whispered roughly, and thrust harder, fingers stroking and curling over her skin to find just the right spot. “Come with me,” Ichigo husked. He kept up a murmur in her ear, low and hot as he told her how he wanted to come with her, how _good_ she felt around him.

He always knew just what to say to drive her higher and over the edge with him, the husband and lover both to whom she’d bound herself. To whom something beyond them – destiny or fate, or some other unnamable power – had bound her. In his arms like this she could let go and trust him to catch her – and she did.

His fingers pressed just the right way, his cock thrust so deep he was buried in her, and Rukia _fell_ , white heat washing over her as she came, _hard,_ around him. Her inner walls clutched tight around him, over and over as Ichigo gave one more thrust and fell with her, emptying himself inside her as he clutched at her in turn, one arm holding her tight against his body while his other hand frantically rubbed at her clit until she keened for him again, stumbling into a third orgasm. What she didn’t expect was the way he thrust inside her again and groaned as though _he_ was coming again too.

The world went dark, and when the darkness receded a moment later they were a tangle of limbs. Fluid trickled down her thighs, more than she’d expected, when Ichigo’s cock slid from her and he turned a little so that they could clutch at one another, both struggling to catch their breath and hearts pounding against one another.

His mouth found hers again and he kissed her, thorough and slow. “Love you,” he said finally, voice still rough. “That was – wow.”

Rukia’s cheeks flushed bright as she leaned into his kiss. “Love you too…it was.” Her eyes slid open and met his, watching the way he smiled down at her as one hand lifted up to tuck a stray bang behind her ear.

“We should…get cleaned up,” Ichigo mumbled, but made no effort to move.

“Hn…yeah,” Rukia agreed, but she tucked herself closer and offered a satisfied sigh when Ichigo’s lips pressed to her forehead. She settled against him feeling nearly boneless, and Ichigo’s hand trailed over her arm lightly.

“You’re going to be annoyed with me if I don’t make you get up,” Ichigo said after a while, voice heavy with sleep.

“I know,” she mumbled back, and stumbled from his arms to find their bathing room with a hitch in her step.

When she stepped back into their bedroom a few minutes later, still utterly naked, Ichigo was watching her with heavy-lidded eyes and the duvet drawn up to his waist. He must have gotten up, because one of the windows was cracked open a little to chase away the potent smell of sex. She climbed back into the bed – he’d changed the sheet beneath them, thankfully – and Ichigo immediately tugged her back into his arms.

“I think,” he said drowsily as he spooned himself around her and drew the covers up, “you’ve only made me crave peaches even more.”

Her cheeks went hot. “Have I?” she asked.

“Mhm. But then, I always want more of you,” he mumbled.

She pressed back against him as Ichigo’s arm tightened around her. “Good thing I always want more of you, too.”

But that would need to wait for another night. Between one breath and the next they slid into dreams together.


End file.
